Game of Thrones: A Bastard's Story Book One
by diredestroyer88
Summary: This is the story of Matt Snow, Rickard Karstark's bastard, as he goes on adventures throughout the Game of Thrones story. This is a story of life and death; love and hate. Will Matt be able to find his love in all the turmoil of the War of the Five Kings and beyond? Read to find out. Rated M for language and future chapters. P.S. This will be on Ao3 under the same name.
1. The DireWolves

_Author's Note:_

_This chapter follows chapter one of _A Game of Thrones, _Including some parts that are word for word._ _Future chapters of this story will include multiple chapters from the books. I plan on using a mix of the_ books_ and the show, ending with season eight of GoT. So, spoilers for both GoT and ASoIaF. All rights go to G.R.R.M and HBO._

It was a cold day in Winterfell. Matthew Snow waited for the execution to begin. The man was of the Night's Watch, a deserter. Lord Eddard Stark was at the front of the party. Deserting the Night's Watch was a crime punishable by death and, in the North, it was strongly believed that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword.

The oldest of the Stark children were there; Bran was the youngest, at the age of ten; Robb was seventeen, the oldest trueborn Stark; Jon, Ned's bastard, was also seventeen; as was Matt, a ward of Ned's and Rickard Karstark's bastard; last came Theon Greyjoy, another ward from Lord Balon Greyjoy of the Iron Islands. He was nineteen.

Jon was whispering something to Bran.

"Keep the pony well in hand," he whispered. "And don't look away. Father will know if you do."

Ned dismounted his horse. Theon handed him his sword, Ice. Ned peeled off his gloves and handed them to Jory Cassel, the captain of his household guard. He took hold of Ice with both hands and said, "In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, by the word of Eddard of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, I sentence you to die." He lifted the greatsword high above his head.

He took off the man's head with a single sure stroke. Blood sprayed out across the snow, as red as summerwine. One of the horses reared and had to be restrained to keep from bolting.

The party started back towards the castle. Robb and Jon started racing each other to the gate. Matt kicked his horse after them. He passed Jon and was coming up on Robb.

"Your horse is getting slow," he shouted to Robb as he passed. "You should get a new one if you ever want to be Lord of Winterfell!"

He got about ten yards ahead when he looked back and noticed that Robb had stopped and dismounted. Matt rode back to find Robb in knee-deep snow, cradling something in his arms. When he got closer, he realized what it was; a grey and black direwolf pup. Jon rode up behind them, saw the pup and went back to tell the others.

Jory Cassel and Theon Greyjoy were there first. Theon drew a quick breath when he saw the pup. "Gods!" He exclaimed as he went for his sword.

Jory's sword was already out. "Robb, get away from it!" he called as his horse reared under him.

It was then that Matt noticed the mother. Half-buried in bloodstained snow, a huge dark shape slumped in death. Ice had formed in its shaggy grey fur, and the faint smell of corruption clung to it like a woman's perfume.

"A freak," Greyjoy said. "Look at the size of it."

"It's no freak," Jon said calmly. "That's a direwolf. They grow larger than the other kind."

Theon Greyjoy said, "There's not been a direwolf sighted south of the Wall in two hundred years."

"I see one now," Jon replied.

"I see five." Matt pointed.

Sure enough, huddled around the dead bitch were four more pups; two male, two female.

"Direwolves loose in the realm, after so many years," muttered Hullen, the master of the horse. "I like it not."

"It is a sign," Jory said.

Ned frowned. "This is only a dead animal, Jory," he said. Yet he seemed troubled. Snow crunched under his boots as he moved around the body. "Do we know what killed her?"

"There's something in the throat," Robb told him, proud to have found the answer before his father even asked. "There, just under the jaw."

Ned knelt and groped under the beast's head with his hand. He gave a yank and held it up for all to see. A foot of shattered antler, tines snapped off, all wet with blood.

A sudden silence descended over the party. The men looked at the antler uneasily, and no one dared to speak.

His father tossed the antler to the side and cleansed his hands in the snow. "I'm surprised she lived long enough to whelp," he said. His voice broke the spell.

"Maybe she didn't," Jory said. "I've heard tales . . . maybe the bitch was already dead when the pups came."

"Born with the dead," another man put in. "Worse luck."

"No matter," said Hullen. "They be dead soon enough too."

Bran gave a wordless cry of dismay.

"The sooner the better," Theon Greyjoy agreed. He drew his sword. "Give the beast here, Bran."

The little thing squirmed against Bran's chest, as if it heard and understood. "No!" Bran cried out fiercely. "It's mine."

"Put away your sword, Greyjoy," Robb said. For a moment he sounded as commanding as his father, like the lord he would someday be. "We will keep these pups."

"You cannot do that, boy," said Harwin, who was Hullen's son.

"It be a mercy to kill them," Hullen said.

Bran looked to his lord father for rescue, but got only a frown, a furrowed brow. "Hullen speaks truly, son. Better a swift death than a hard one from cold and starvation."

"No!" Bran looked like he was about to cry.

Robb resisted stubbornly. "Ser Rodrik's red bitch whelped again last week," he said. "It was a small litter, only two live pups. She'll have milk enough."

"She'll rip them apart when they try to nurse."

"Lord Stark," Jon said. It was strange to hear him call Father that, so formal. Bran looked at him with desperate hope. "There are five pups," he told Father. "Three male, two female."

"What of it, Jon?"

"You have five trueborn children," Jon said. "Three sons, two daughters. The direwolf is the sigil of your House. Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord."

Ned's face changed. Jon had done something that Matt would never have done himself. The count had come right only because Jon had omitted himself. He had included the girls, included even Rickon, the baby, but not the bastard who bore the surname Snow, the name that custom decreed be given to all those in the north unlucky enough to be born with no name of their own.

Ned understood as well. "You want no pup for yourself, Jon?" he asked softly.

"The direwolf graces the banners of House Stark," Jon pointed out. "I am no Stark, Father."

Lord Stark regarded Jon thoughtfully. Robb rushed into the silence he left. "I will nurse him myself, Father," he promised. "I will soak a towel with warm milk, and give him suck from that."

"Me too!" Bran echoed.

The lord weighed his sons long and carefully with his eyes. "Easy to say, and harder to do. I will not have you wasting the servants' time with this. If you want these pups, you will feed them yourselves. Is that understood?"

Bran nodded eagerly. The pup squirmed in his grasp, licked at his face with a warm tongue.

"You must train them as well," Lord Eddard said. "You must train them. The kennel master will have nothing to do with these monsters, I promise you that. And the gods help you if you neglect them, or brutalize them, or train them badly. These are not dogs to beg for treats and slink off at a kick. A direwolf will rip a man's arm off his shoulder as easily as a dog will kill a rat. Are you sure you want this?"

"Yes, Father," Bran said.

"Yes," Robb agreed.

"The pups may die anyway, despite all you do."

"They won't die," Robb said. "We won't let them die."

"Keep them, then. Jory, Desmond, gather up the other pups. It's time we were back to Winterfell."

Soon after they started back, Jon stopped. "Do you hear that?" He said.

"Hear what?" Matt asked.

"There," Jon dismounted and went off into the woods. "Matt, come here!" He shouted.

Matt ran to where Jon stood. "What?" he asked.

"There," Jon pointed.

Laying in the snow were two more direwolf pups. One was all white with red eyes, the other was dark grey with streaks of red, yellow, and orange.

"They must have crawled away from the others," Jon said.

"Two more pups for the two bastards," Lord Stark said.

"I don't understand," Matt said, confused. "I'm not a Stark, my lord. I'm just your ward, as is Theon. Why doesn't he have one?"

"Your father is a Karstark," Ned pointed out. "You have Stark blood, Theon does not. Your meant to have it."

Matt picked up the grey one and it almost immediately snuggled up to him.

"See," Robb said. "He already likes you."

Jon picked up the other pup and cradled it in his arms.

"An albino," Theon Greyjoy said with wry amusement. "This one will die even faster than the others."

Jon gave Theon a look of annoyance. "I'll take him to the Wall when I leave," he said. "He'll be at home there."

As they rode off again, Matt looked down at the pup in his arms. "Your going to need a name."

_Author's Note:_

_Well, that's chapter one. I have a few names in mind for Matt's direwolf. Leave a review with the name that you want. The names are as follows: FireWind; Fireball; Flamefoot; Blaze._


	2. The Naming of the Wolves

_Author's Note: Well, by an overwhelming majority of a whole two votes, Matt's direwolf is named Blaze. This chapter is going to cover chapter two of _A Game of Thrones_. Chapter three is a Daenerys chapter, so I will most likely skip it. If you guys want me to change anything with Dany before she gets to Westeros, then let me know in a review and I will probably do a separate story on it. Hope you enjoy._

When they got back to the castle, Ned went straight to the godswood. Matt, Jon, and Robb went with Jory Cassel to give Rickon and the girls their pups.

Sansa was the oldest of the girls at sixteen; Arya was next at fourteen; and Rickon was the youngest of the boys at six.

They were all ecstatic to receive their pups. Arya named hers Nymeria, after the Rhoynar princess who led her people from the banks of the River Rhoyne, first to the Basilisk Isles and the coasts of Sothoryos, then to the island of Naath, then the Summer Islands, and eventually they settled in Dorne, where she married into House Martel and conquered the southern kingdom.

Sansa named her pup Lady because, despite the direwolve's savage nature, she planned to train her in royal etiquette.

Rickon named his Shaggydog after his shaggy black fur.

"What about yours, Matt?" Arya asked.

"I've decided to name him Blaze," Matt answered. "He looks like he has fire in his fur."

"That's nice," Arya said. Then she kissed him lovingly, right in front of her siblings.

"Arya!" Sansa exclaimed. "Not in front of Rickon, he's to young!"

Arya peeled back, embarrassed. "Sorry," she said sheepishly.

Matt and Arya had only been betrothed recently. When Matt first arrived, they had loved each other as siblings, but as they got older that love grew into that of a young couple. This conviced Ned to betroth them despite the fact that Matt was a bastard. Lady Catelyn was skeptical at first, but she was slowly coming around.

"What about you two?" Sansa asked, looking at Robb and Jon. "What did you name your pups?"

Robb answered first. "Mine's Grey Wind. He's grey and black and quick like the wind."

"This is Ghost," Jon said. "He's white." Jon gave no other explanation.

Later, the older boys were sitting on the walls watching Bran, Rickon, and Arya play with their pups (Bran had named his Summer) in the courtyard below, when Ned returned from the godswood with a sad look on his face.

"Jon Arryn is dead," He said solemnly.

Matt could tell that the news had hit Lord Stark hard. Ned had fostered at the Eyrie, and the childless Lord Arryn had become a second father to him and his fellow ward, Robert Baratheon. When the Mad King Aerys II Targaryen had demanded their heads, the Lord of the Eyrie had raised his moon-and- falcon banners in revolt rather than give up those he had pledged to protect.

And one day fifteen years ago, this second father had become a brother as well, as he and Ned stood together in the sept at Riverrun to wed two sisters, the daughters of Lord Hoster Tully.

"The king is coming to Winterfell," He added. "With the entire royal family and the queen's brothers."

Matt didn't much like the royal family nor the queen's brothers. Joffrey Baratheon was a whiny little ass hole. Tommen and Myrcella were nice enough, but they were still young. Jamie Lannister was smug and prideful, a member of the Kingsguard. His brother, the Imp, Tyrion Lannister was a little better, though not by much.

"I've sent for Benjen as well," He said. "Jon, you can go with him when he goes back to the wall."

"Thank you, father," Jon said. "I will."

"When will the king arrive, my lord?" Asked Matt

"Two weeks," Lord Stark answered. "Now come, we have a feast to prepare for."

_Author's Note: That's the second chapter done. I decided to age the girls up a little because of Matt and Arya's betrothal. Other than that, the children are the same age as in the show. I'm using mostly the books for reference material right now, but I will go rewatch the show and make changes as I see fit. Suggestions for future changes are welcome, so please leave a review with any suggestions you might have. This has been DireDestroyer, signing off._


	3. The Feast

_Author's Note: I've been gaining views really fast, so I'm writing another chapter. This one will focus on chapters four and five of the first book and what took place while Ned and Robert were in the crypt. Enjoy._

The day of the king's arrival felt like it came a lot sooner than expected. As the king's procession came through the gates, Matt recognized a few faces from when the Starks went to King's Landing nine years ago to celebrate the end of Balon Greyjoy's rebellion.

He saw Ser Jamie Lannister with that smug look he always wore; then the Hound, Sandor Clegane with his half-burned face; beside him was Prince Joffery Baratheon. He smiled at Sansa and her cheeks flushed. Behind them was Tyrion Lannister, the Imp.

King Robert Baratheon was at the head of the procession, flanked by two of the Kingsguard. He dismounted and gave Ned a bone-crushing hug. "_Ned!_ Ah, but it is good to see that frozen face of yours." The king looked him over top to bottom and laughed. "You have not changed at all."

Ned only bowed and said, "Your Grace, Winterfell is yours."

Queen Cersei Lannister exited her carriage with her younger children, Tommen and Myrcella. Formal greetings were made and the children were introduced. Tommen gave Arya a smile which she didn't return, but Matt gave him a look that told him to stay away from her. He backed down. _I'll have to watch him._ Matt thought.

Once the formalities were out of the way, Ned and Robert went down to the crypt to talk in private. Matt saw Tyrion head right out the gates and into the small village surrounding the castle. Knowing the Imp he probably was off to find the nearest brothel.

Joffrey kissed Sansa's hand, "My lady, you are more beautiful than I first thought."

"Thank you, my prince." She said blushing.

Tommen tried to follow his brother's example with Arya, but was scared off by Matt's gaze. Arya moved closer to Matt and grabbed his hand. "Be careful," she whispered. "I love you, but Cersei might get the wrong idea if she sees you scaring Tommen like that."

"He's being a little too flirtatious with you and I don't like it."

"Still, you know how protective the queen can be. Just be careful. I don't want you to get hurt."

"If Cersei does see me scaring Tommen off, then I'll have Lord Stark explain the betrothal."

"Even so, I doubt she'll support it," Arya said. "Cersei Lannister would almost definitely protest a trueborn lady being wed to a bastard."

"She'll be the one to talk, then. If these rumors about her fucking Jaime are true…."

"If those rumors are true, then there's the possibility that Tommen isn't even Robert's child," Arya pointed out. "It would be even worse for a trueborn lady to wed a bastard born of incest."

Ned and Robert emerged from the crypt, "There will be a feast tonight!" Ned announced.

—

Once everyone was seated, Ned stood to give a toast, "Tonight, we drink in mourning of Lord Jon Arryn," he started solemnly. "He was a great man and an even greater brother. May he Rest In Peace.

"We also drink to the king's health," he added, a little more enthusiastically. "To King Robert!"

"To King Robert!" The room echoed.

As Ned sat down the king stood up. "I have a few announcements!" he shouted. "First of all, I would like to announce that I shall make Lord Stark my new Hand of the King!" The room echoed with applause. "I would also like to announce the betrothal of my son, Prince Joffrey, to Lord Stark's daughter, Sansa!"

Sansa looked very surprised at this news. Matt saw her face flush when Joffrey smiled at her.

The food came next. Although he was both a bastard and a ward, Matt sat beneath the high table with the other children because of his betrothal to Arya. He made sure to keep Tommen at the opposite end of the table, away from Arya.

"Father is going to take us with him when he leaves for King's Landing," she told him excitedly. "He's planning on having our wedding there!"

"That's great news!" Matt said. He was going to kiss her full on the lips, but Sansa noticed and gave a look, so he settled for the cheek.

After the feast Matt went back to his chambers where Blaze was waiting.

"We'll be leaving for King's Landing soon," he told the wolf. "You'll have to behave in the capital. I'll take you out hunting when I can, but you'll have to be careful when we're in the city. People will be scared of you."

The direwolf looked up at him and seemed to smile.

"I knew you would understand," he said. Matt went to bed, contented.

_Author's Note: Another chapter done. The next chapter will be on the road to King's Landing and the stop-off at Castle Darry. I'm still not sure if I'm going to have Nymeria run away and Lady get killed or not. As always, leave a review and tell me what you think. Dire out._


	4. The Kingsroad

_Author's Note: So, I've gotten a few reviews telling me how Ned and Cat would never accept a bastard marrying their second daughter. I've answered a few individually, but I'm probably going to get more in the future, so I'll just answer them all now. The main reasons for being against the betrothal will be fixed in future chapters ie. at some point Matt will be legitimized. This chapter follows all the chapters from the journey down the Kingsroad to the events at Castle Darry._

The road to King's Landing was a long one. Matt rode near the back so Blaze could catch up after he went off to hunt. About two hours into the journey, they received an urgent message from Winterfell. Bran had fallen from a tower and hadn't woken up yet. Thankfully, he was still alive, but Maester Luwin still didn't know if he would make it. Ned almost turned back, but Matt talked him out of it.

"My lord," he said. "You must keep going. I'm sure Bran will be alright. We can still pray for him. King Robert _needs_ you to be his hand."

"You're right," Lord Stark decided. "Cat is there with him and Maester Luwin will do everything he can. I'll have Grand Maester Pycelle send a raven with instructions on what best to do."

That night Arya came into his tent crying. "I don't know what's going to happen to Bran," she said as she melted into his arms. "I don't want him to _die."_

"Bran will be alright. Maester Luwin will take good care of him."

She sniffled, "I love you, Matt."

"I love you too"

Matt smiled as they fell asleep in each other's arms.

—

The next morning, they set off again. Arya was riding with Matt now. The Hound had come to rouse them and found them still wrapped in each other's arms. Arya had been embarrassed at first, but when Ned was told, he was surprisingly ok with it.

"As long as you didn't fuck," he said. Then he turned to the Hound, "Since when was clothed cuddling taboo, Clegane? Next time, leave it go."

"Yes, My Lord Hand."

"Just my lord for now Clegane" Ned corrected. "I'm not the Hand of the King until I put on the badge."

"Sorry, my lord."

Lord Stark turned back to Arya and Matt. "Bran's fall hit us all hard, none more than myself. You may ride together for comfort if you would like."

And they did, for the rest of the journey. A few days later, they arrived at Castle Darry, where Ser Raymun Darry planned to host them for three days. They feasted that night.

The next morning, Matt, Arya, and Mycah, a butcher's boy, were sparring using sticks down by the riverbank. Mycah had just gotten the better of Arya and accidently hit her while disarming her, when Joffrey and Sansa came upon them. Joffrey saw the boy hit her and looked angry.

"You hit my lady's sister, boy?" He asked. "You deserve a proper punishment," he drew is blade.

"Stop, it was an accident!" Arya shouted, stepping in front of Mycah and drawing Needle, her own sword.

"Stop it, both of you!" Sansa cried.

Joffrey ignored her, "Out of my way girl!" He hit Arya in the side with the side of his sword.

This infuriated Matt, "Don't touch her you little shit!" He drew his sword. Blaze growled, sensing Matt's anger, and prepared to pounce.

Nymeria was there first. She jumped and bit Joffrey's sword hand causing him to cry out in pain and drop his blade. Arya picked it up, took one look at the prince rolling on the ground in pain, and threw it in the river.

"My sword!" Joffrey shouted through tears.

"Wow, he is a whiny little bitch," Matt said. Arya laughed.

"I'm telling the king!" Sansa shouted and she ran back towards the castle.

Arya paled. "Mycah, run and hide," she shouted.

"Sansa, no!" Matt shouted as he ran after her.

He somehow lost her in the wood.

By the time he got back to the castle, Sansa was already there.

"What's this about Arya's beast hurting my Joffrey?" Cersei asked.

Matt tried to explain, but the queen wouldn't hear it.

"We will find the girl and the beast in time," She said. "For now though, let's make an example, shall we?" She looked to Robert. "Kill Sansa's beast."

"No!" Sansa cried.

"My wife is right," the king agreed. "There must be some show of force and, from what we've heard, Matt will kill anyone who goes near the ones that he loves. It must be done." He looked to Ned.

I'll do it myself then," Ned said solemnly.

"No, father! You can't!"

"I have to, Sansa dear. The king commands it." His eyes were full of sadness. He walked off to where Lady was tied up.

Matt laid in bed alone, listening to Lady howl as Lord Stark approached her with a knife. One howl, then another, a yelp, and then… silence.

_Author's Note: I decided to keep Lady's death for the sake of the plot. I'm still not sure whether Bran is still going to be crippled or not, but he probably will be because, in my opinion, without losing the use of his legs, Bran would not have had much motivation to become the Three-Eyed Raven. This was Dire, signing off._


	5. News and Death

_Author's Note: First of all, I just wanted to thank you all for the support I've seen on this story. Please go check out my YouTube channel, Dire Destroyer88, link in bio. This chapter will focus on the last day at Castle Darry and the arrival at King's Landing. As always, please leave a review with suggestions on what you would like to see in future chapters. Enjoy._

Matt woke in the middle of the night to Arya crying. They had found her about an hour prior.

"Cersei wanted to beat me for what happened," she said through tears. "She said that it was my fault."

"If that would have happened, I would have killed her and her precious little Joffrey."

"You would have been arrested and thrown in a Black Cell as soon as we got to King's Landing. I couldn't bear that."

"It would have been worth it to protect my lady's honor."

"You don't have to call me 'my lady'. We're to be _married_."

"I know," Matt said. "It's just fun to tease you…. _My lady._"

She slapped him. "Shut up."

"Ouch, that hurt," he kissed her. Once again they fell asleep in each other's arms.

—

The next morning they woke to shouting in the courtyard. They went outside to find out what was going on. The Hound had returned (though Matt did not know that he had left). There was a dead body on the back of his horse. Arya screamed when saw who it was.

"Mycah!" She shouted. "You killed him!" She started crying into Matt's shoulder.

"You ran him down!" Matt shouted. "You didn't have to kill him but you did anyways!"

"He ran," The Hound said. "I told him to stop and he kept , I killed him."

"He was scared." Matt said. "You come up with your big dog helm and think your not going to scare someone"

"I can scare you, boy!" He drew his sword.

"Try me!" Matt shouted as he drew his own blade.

"What is going on out here!?" Lord Stark walked out of the keep.

"The Hound killed an innocent boy!"

"Is this true, Clegane?"

"I did kill him, my lord," the knight said. "But he was far from innocent. He took part in the maiming Prince Joffrey."

"Liar!" Arya yelled. She turned to her father, "We were sparring and Mycah accidentally hit me. Joffrey said he needed a proper punishment and took his sword out. I tried telling him that it was an accident, but he wouldn't listen and he hit me. Nymeria was only trying to protect me."

"The wolf actually saved Joff's life," Matt added. "If Nymeria hadn't bit him, I would have killed him."

"Where is Nymeria now, Arya?" Ned asked.

"I chased her off so they wouldn't kill her," Arya answered. "She's probably long gone by now."

"Good," he turned to the Hound. "A man with any sense would strip you of knighthood and send you to the Wall, but we may have need of good fighters like you in the war to come."

"War, my lord?" Matt asked curiously.

Ned looked around quickly, "Come, all three of you. I'll explain inside."

Once inside, he led them to his chambers. "Now, first you must swear to me that none of what you are about to hear will leave this room."

"I swear" Matt said. Arya said the same. So did the Hound, a little reluctantly.

"Good," he said. "A few days ago, we received word that Daenerys Targaryen has been wed to a Dothraki khal."

"What?!" Matt exclaimed. "I thought Robert had the last Targaryens killed years ago!"

"They somehow managed to evade the assassins that we sent after them," he said. "Her brother, Viserys, sold her to Khal Drogo in exchange for a united Dothraki khalasar that he will use to retake the Iron Throne."

"How did we come by this information?" Clegane asked.

"Ser Jorah Mormont has been spying for Varys in order to earn a chance to come home."

"Wasn't Ser Jorah the one who sold those poachers into slavery, then ran when you called him to answer for his crimes?" Asked Arya.

"Yes, Arya. You listened well." He answered. "You can leave now, Sandor. I must talk to these two in private."

When the Hound left, Ned turned back to the other two. "Before we left Winterfell, we received a raven from your aunt Lysa. She believes that Jon Arryn was murdered."

"Who would want to murder the Hand of the King?" Matt asked.

"The Targaryens, the Free Cities, We're not sure. Lysa seems to think it was the Lannisters. She thinks Jon found something that would have destroyed the Lannister's chance for the throne."

"Like proof that Cersei and Jaime are having an affair?" Arya said, proud to have thought of it herself.

"Yes, almost definitely that. The only reason I'm here is because Catelyn urged me to come and find the truth."

"What if they try to kill you as well?"

"I am prepared to face that possibility. When I have proof of this affair, I will send ravens to Renly and Stannis. When the problem of succession comes up, Stannis is the true heir. Hopefully Renly will see that and put aside his ego to declare for his brother.

"You must not tell anyone what you heard here. Most of all Sansa. She is too close to Joffrey."

"Yes, My lord" Matt said.

When they left Castle Darry, Matt kept Blaze close to him and Arya for protection. Just in case the queen suddenly changed her mind and tried to have them executed. Sansa rode far away from them and wouldn't look either of them in the eye. She blamed them for the death of Lady.

When they arrived at King's Landing, Lord Peter Baelish requested that Ned see him in his office, which was on the top floor of a brothel that he owned. Ned turned to the septa, "Septa Mordane, please take the children to their chambers. I will meet you there when I am done."

As Matt and Arya settled into their shared chambers, Ned entered with a grim look on his face. "Another attempt has been made on Bran's life," He said. "An assassin hired by Tyron Lannister."

"Tyrion went to the wall with Jon and uncle Benjen," Arya said. "We could send word to the lord commander to keep him there and force him to take the Black."

"We already have, but I fear he may have already left Castle Black. There's more as well. Cat believes that Bran didn't fall, he was pushed."

"By whom?" Asked Matt.

"By Jaime Lannister."

"Cersei did leave a few hours after us," Matt mused. "Maybe Bran saw her and Jaime fucking and got caught."

"That is a possibility," Ned said "But we have no proof."

"That's just more of a reason for you to find proof that they have been fucking, my lord."

"I will get on that as soon as possible. But first, Matt, I will be requesting your legitimization tomorrow. That way you two can be wed."

"Thank you, my lord." Matt said. He looked at Arya and they both smiled. "We can't wait."

_Author's Note: This one took me longer than usual (considering the usual time is a few hours). Not sure what I'm going to do with the next chapter, but feel free to leave suggestions. This has been DireDestroyer, signing off._


	6. King's Landing and the Death of the King

_Author's Note: Some of this chapter will be word for word from multiple chapters of _A Game of Thrones._ These parts are owned by G.R.R.M. This chapter will take place during the first days at King's Landing through the royal tourney all the way to Robert's fatal injury and Ned's arrest. Enjoy._

That evening, Lord Stark was late to dinner.

"My lord," Jory said when Ned entered. He rose to his feet, and the rest of the guard rose with him. There were fifty of them, so most of the benches were empty.

"Be seated," Eddard Stark said. "I see you have started without me. I am pleased to know there are still some men of sense in this city." He signaled for the meal to resume. The servants began bringing out platters of ribs, roasted in a crust of garlic and herbs.

"The talk in the yard is we shall have a tourney, my lord," Jory said as he resumed his seat. "They say that knights will come from all over the realm to joust and feast in honor of your appointment as Hand of the King."

Ned did not look happy about that. "Do they also say this is the last thing in the world I would have wished?"

Sansa's eyes had grown wide as the plates. "A _tourney,_" she breathed. She was seated between Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole, as far away from Arya and Matt as she could get without drawing a reproach from her father. "Will we be permitted to go, Father?"

"You know my feelings, Sansa. It seems I must arrange Robert's games and pretend to be honored for his sake. That does not mean I must subject my daughters to this folly."

"Oh, _please_," Sansa said. "I want to see."

Septa Mordane spoke up. "Princess Myrcella will be there, my lord, and her younger than Lady Sansa. All the ladies of the court will be expected at a grand event like this, and as the tourney is in your honor, it would look queer if your family did not attend."

Lord Stark looked pained. "I suppose so. Very well, I shall arrange a place for you, Sansa." He saw Arya. "For both of you."

"I don't care about their stupid tourney," Arya said.

Sansa lifted her head. "It will be a _splendid_ event. You shan't be wanted."

Matt snapped back. "She shall be wanted. I will be participating, and if I win, she will be crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty."

"I _highly_ doubt you will win," Sansa said coldly. "You'll probably be knocked out in the first round. And there are many other girls who are much more beautiful than Arya Horseface."

This angered Matt. "You take that back!" He shouted.

"I don't think I will."

"_Enough_, Sansa," Lord Eddard said. "More of that and you will change my mind. I am weary unto death of this endless war you three are fighting. You are my children. I expect you to behave like siblings, is that understood?"

Sansa bit her lip and nodded. Arya lowered her face to stare sullenly at her plate. Matt saw her rub away tears and he put a hand on her shoulder.

The only sound was the clatter of knives and forks. "Pray excuse me," Ned Stark announced to the table. "I find I have a small appetite tonight." He walked from the hall.

After he was gone, Sansa exchanged excited whispers with Jeyne Poole. Down the table Jory laughed at a joke, and Hullen started in about horseflesh. "Your warhorse, now, he may not be the best one for the joust. Not the same thing, oh, no, not the same at all." The men had heard it all before; Desmond, Jacks, and Hullen's son Harwin shouted him down together, and Porther called for more wine.

Matt was trying to console Arya, but he could tell it wasn't working. She was still mad about Mycah. "He was my_ friend_," he heard her whisper into her plate, so low that no one else could here. Her ribs sat there untouched, grown cold now, a thin film of grease congealing beneath them on the plate. She pushed them away from the table.

"Pray, where do you think you are going, young lady?" Septa Mordane asked.

"I'm not hungry." She seemed to remember her courtesies. "May I be excused, please?" she recited stiffly.

"You may not," the septa said. "You have scarcely touched your food. You will sit down and clean your plate."

"You clean it!" Before anyone could stop her, Arya bolted for the door as the men laughed and Septa Mordane called loudly after her, her voice rising higher and higher.

Matt looked at the septa. "She just needs some time alone," he said. "She's been through a lot these last couple of days."

When dinner was finished, Matt went and knocked cautiously on the door to their chambers. "Come in," he heard Arya say.

"You feeling better?" He asked as he entered.

"Yes," she said. "Father talked to me. He let me keep Needle. He said not to stab Sansa."

"He should have said that to me. I almost ran up here for my sword."

"And I would have stopped you." Arya said. "Would you really crown me Queen of Love and Beauty if you won?"

"Of course," Matt said, wrapping his arms around her. "You are the most beautiful person I've ever met. Besides, you're my betrothed, your father would kill me if I didn't. I won't make the same mistake Rhaegar Targaryen did to started Robert's Rebellion."

"Rhaegar was married to Elia Martel," Arya remembered. "When he won the tourney at Harrenhal, he named Aunt Lyanna Queen of Love and Beauty. Aunt Lyanna was betrothed to Robert Baratheon. In one day Rhaegar Targaryen insulted Houses Martel, Stark, and Baratheon."

"Good," Matt congratulated her. "I forgot to mention that you're also the smartest person I've ever met."

"Thank you," She said. "But you seem to have forgotten that you must be a knight in order to enter the tourney."

"Oh, shit," Matt cursed. "Maybe the king can knight me when he legitimizes me."

"Just don't get yourself badly hurt. I couldn't live knowing you got injured in some stupid tourney."

"I swear to you I'll be fine," he promised. He looked outside. "We should probably get to bed. Your father would kill us if we slept in."

"I love you," Arya said as they laid down.

"I love you too," Matt said, smiling.

—

Three days later, at midday, Lord Stark's steward, Vayon Poole, sent Arya to the Small Hall. "Not you," he said when Matt started to follow. "Just Arya."

Four hours later, Arya returned looking tired, but excited. "Father hired me a dancing master," she said. "His name is Syrio Forel. He was the first sword to the Sealord of Braavos for nine years."

"Is he training you?" Matt asked.

"Yes. He's training me how to use Needle properly."

"That's amazing, Arya."

"I'm going back tomorrow."

"You might need this training," Matt said, laying down. "If Ned finds the truth, we all might be in danger."

"I know. Besides," she said as she laid next to him. "I have my brave knight to protect me."

—

Six months later, Matt was called to court. The Small Council was there as well as Arya.

"Matthew Snow!" The king boomed.

Matt knelt. "Your Grace."

"It is my understanding that you wish to be legitimized."

"That is correct, Your Grace."

"I have thought long and hard on this matter," King Robert said. Both Ned and Arya smiled. "But, my wife has given me another idea. My son, Tommen, shall be betrothed to Arya Stark."

"What!?" Ned looked at the king. "Forgive me Your Grace, but I have not consented to this."

"But you have," Cersei broke in. "When Arya's wolf injured Joffrey. Her marriage to Tommen is payment."

"Joffrey hit Arya!" Matt shouted. "Nymeria was protecting her!"

"That's not what Sansa says. And Sansa is no liar."

"She _is_ a liar!" Arya was fuming.

"_Silence_!" The king bellowed. The hall went silent. He turned to Ned. "Matt and Arya are to no longer share chambers. See to it that Arya is moved immediately. I want nothing more to do with this drama. There is a tourney tomorrow and I am going hunting in two weeks."

As soon as they were out of sight of the guards, Arya broke down in tears. "What are we going to do?!"

Matt stroked her head. "It's ok. Once Ned finds proof of Cersei and Jaime's affair, Tommen will be revealed to be an bastard born of incest."

"He needs to hurry up then."

—

The day of the tourney came faster than expected. Matt sat right next to Arya. The jousting went all day and into the night. The most terrifying moment of the day came during Ser Gregor's second joust, when his lance rode up and struck a young knight from the Vale under the gorget with such force that it drove through his throat, killing him instantly. The youth fell not ten feet from where Sansa was seated. The point of Ser Gregor's lance had snapped off in his neck, and his life's blood flowed out in slow pulses, each weaker than the one before. His armor was shiny new; a bright streak of fire ran down his outstretched arm, as the steel caught the light. Then the sun went behind a cloud, and it was gone. His cloak was blue, the color of the sky on a clear summer's day, trimmed with a border of crescent moons, but as his blood seeped into it, the cloth darkened and the moons turned red, one by one.

Arya gasped and Sansa's friend, Jeyne Poole, started crying hysterically.

After they carried off the body, a boy with a spade ran onto the field and shoveled dirt over the spot where he had fallen, to cover up the blood. Then the jousts resumed.

Eventually, it came down to four; the Hound, his brother Ser Gregor, Jaime Lannister, and Ser Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers.

By then, the moon was well up and the crowd was tired, so the king decreed that the last three matches would be fought the next morning, before the melee. While the commons began their walk home, talking of the day's jousts and the matches to come on the morrow, the court moved to the riverside to begin the feast. Six monstrous huge aurochs had been roasting for hours, turning slowly on wooden spits while kitchen boys basted them with butter and herbs until the meat crackled and spit. Tables and benches had been raised outside the pavilions, piled high with sweetgrass and strawberries and fresh-baked bread.

The feast went by uneventfully. When it was over, Matt and Arya went to their separate tents. A little while later, however, Matt woke to find that Arya had snuck into his tent and was lying next to him.

"You're not supposed to be here," he whispered.

"I know, but I couldn't stand being apart from you any longer."

"If anyone finds us like this…"

"Father knows that I'm here. He'll send Jory to rouse us in the morning."

"Ok, then," he said. "I love you, no matter what they say."

"I love you, too." Arya said as they drifted off to sleep.

—

The final three matches went rather unexpectedly. The Hound beat Ser Jaime. The second match was an interesting one; Ser Gregor versus Ser Loras.

Ser Gregor was having trouble controlling his horse. The stallion was screaming and pawing the ground, shaking his head. The Mountain kicked at the animal savagely with an armored boot. The horse reared and almost threw him.

The Knight of Flowers saluted the king, rode to the far end of the list, and couched his lance, ready. Ser Gregor brought his animal to the line, fighting with the reins. And suddenly it began. The Mountain's stallion broke in a hard gallop, plunging forward wildly, while the mare charged as smooth as a flow of silk. Ser Gregor wrenched his shield into position, juggled with his lance, and all the while fought to hold his unruly mount on a straight line, and suddenly Loras Tyrell was on him, placing the point of his lance just there, and in an eye blink the Mountain was failing. He was so huge that he took his horse down with him in a tangle of steel and flesh.

The Hound was laughing. The Knight of Flowers reined up at the end of the lists. His lance was not even broken. His sapphires winked in the sun as he raised his visor, smiling. The commons went mad for him.

In the middle of the field, Ser Gregor Clegane disentangled himself and came boiling to his feet. He wrenched off his helm and slammed it down onto the ground. His face was dark with fury and his hair fell down into his eyes. "My sword," he shouted to his squire, and the boy ran it out to him. By then his stallion was back on its feet as well.

Gregor Clegane killed the horse with a single blow of such ferocity that it half severed the animal's neck. Cheers turned to shrieks in a heartbeat. The stallion went to its knees, screaming as it died. By then Gregor was striding down the lists toward Ser Loras Tyrell, his bloody sword clutched in his fist. "_Stop him!_" Matt heard Ned shout, but his words were lost in the roar. Everyone else was yelling as well, and Sansa was crying.

It all happened so fast. The Knight of Flowers was shouting for his own sword as Ser Gregor knocked his squire aside and made a grab for the reins of his horse. The mare scented blood and reared. Loras Tyrell kept his seat, but barely. Ser Gregor swung his sword, a savage two-handed blow that took the boy in the chest and knocked him from the saddle. The courser dashed away in panic as Ser Loras lay stunned in the dirt. But as Gregor lifted his sword for the killing blow, a rasping voice warned, "_Leave him be_," and a steel-clad hand wrenched him away from the boy.

The Mountain pivoted in wordless fury, swinging his longsword in a killing arc with all his massive strength behind it, but the Hound caught the blow and turned it, and for what seemed an eternity the two brothers stood hammering at each other as a dazed Loras Tyrell was helped to safety. Thrice Matt saw Ser Gregor aim savage blows at the hound's-head helmet, yet not once did Sandor send a cut at his brother's unprotected face.

It was the king's voice that put an end to it . . . the king's voice and twenty swords. Ned had told Matt that Jon Arryn always said that a commander needs a good battlefield voice, and Robert had proved the truth of that on the Trident. He used that voice now. "STOP THIS MADNESS," he boomed, "IN THE NAME OF YOUR KING!"

The Hound went to one knee. Ser Gregor's blow cut air, and at last he came to his senses. He dropped his sword and glared at Robert, surrounded by his Kingsguard and a dozen other knights and guardsmen. Wordlessly, he turned and strode off, shoving past Barristan Selmy. "Let him go," Robert said, and as quickly as that, it was over.

The third match never came. A few moments later Ser Loras Tyrell walked back onto the field in a simple linen doublet and said to Sandor Clegane, "I owe you my life. The day is yours, ser."

"I am no _ser_," the Hound replied, but he took the victory, and the champion's purse, and, for perhaps the first time in his life, the love of the commons. They cheered him as he left the lists to return to his pavilion.

That afternoon a boy named Anguy, an unheralded commoner from the Dornish Marches, won the archery competition, outshooting Ser Balon Swann and Jalabhar Xho at a hundred paces after all the other bowmen had been eliminated at the shorter distances.

The melee went on for three hours. Near forty men took part, freeriders and hedge knights and new-made squires in search of a reputation. They fought with blunted weapons in a chaos of mud and blood, small troops fighting together and then turning on each other as alliances formed and fractured, until only one man was left standing. The victor was the red priest, Thoros of Myr, a madman who shaved his head and fought with a flaming sword. He had won melees before; the fire sword frightened the mounts of the other riders, and nothing frightened Thoros. The final tally was three broken limbs, a shattered collarbone, a dozen smashed fingers, two horses that had to be put down, and more cuts, sprains, and bruises than anyone cared to count.

Arya had missed the melee because of her dancing lessons. She returned at the beginning of the feast. Sansa was surprisingly nice. "The melee was _magnificent_," she sighed. "You should have come. How was your dancing?"

"I'm sore all over," Arya reported happily, proudly displaying a huge purple bruise on her leg.

"You must be a terrible dancer," Sansa said doubtfully.

—

The next day, Lord Eddard came from the Small Council meeting without his badge. "Daenerys is pregnant," he declared, angrily. "Robert wants to kill her and the unborn child."

"Do we know if the baby will be a boy or a girl?" Matt asked.

"No," Ned replied. "I tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn't hear me. He means to poison her."

"Where is your badge, my lord?"

"Robert tried to make me carry out the order. I told him I would have no part in this. We will return to Winterfell soon."

—––—

A few days later, Vayon Poole came to them with terrible news: Ned had been badly hurt by order of the Kingslayer while coming from a brothel. Jaime claimed that Lord Stark was drunk and attacked his men in the streets.

Matt knew that Ned had really gone to that brothel to visit one of Robert's bastards. What really happened, he guessed, was that Jaime had attacked Lord Eddard in retaliation for Catelyn's capture of Tyrion (the news of which had come in the day before).

He was unconscious for six days. Both Matt and Arya went to see him as soon as they heard he had awakened. When they got there, the king was just leaving. Arya quickly let go of Matt's hand, which she had been holding on the way up.

"Your Grace," they both said.

"My lady," he returned. "Snow."

When they entered, Ned looked at them and smiled. "My children," he said. "I am glad to see your faces."

For once, Matt did not correct him. He had realized, sitting there, looking at the unconscious Lord of Winterfell, while Arya cried into his shoulder, that he had always been Ned Stark's son at heart.

"Father," Arya hugged him. "Grand Maester Pycelle said you might not make it."

"Pycelle over exaggerates things. I am fine."

"You're Hand of the King again," Matt noted, looking at the badge.

"He already ordered Daenerys' poisoning, so he reinstated me. Robert is going hunting tomorrow, so I will rule in his stead. I would legitimize you and betroth you two again, but the queen refused to let Robert give me leave to do so."

"Could you at least abolish Arya's betrothal to Tommen?" Matt asked. "Send us back to Winterfell to see Robb, Bran, and Rickon again."

"I will try," he promised. "But Cersei will most likely refuse."

"Thank you, Father."

—

As expected, the queen would not let them leave the city. Other than that, the next few days went by without incident. Then, five days later, Robert returned from the hunt with a large gash in his stomach. He had tried to take on a boar alone.

"Pycelle says that the king will most certainly die," Ned told them. "Robert has made me Joffrey's regent until he comes of age."

"Joffrey will never be king," Arya said. "You have proof that he is not Robert's child."

"Yes, I have proof. I have sent a letter to Stannis at Dragonstone telling him of the affair. Renly cannot know. He has already told me that he thinks he would make a better king than Joffrey or Stannis. He offered me his men to help get Joffrey away from his mother."

"That may be our best option," Matt said. "If we let Cersei flee with her children, she will just return with the entire Lannister army at her back. If we can get Joffrey away from her, then maybe we can teach him to be a better person."

"Yes, but even Renly's men are not enough. I have asked Littlefinger to pay off the City Watch."

"Are you sure you can trust Littlefinger, my lord?"

"He swore by the old gods and the new that the City Watch will be mine. My first act as regent will be to legitimize you. Then we can abolish Arya's betrothal to Tommen and you two can finally be wed."

"Thank you, my lord"

—

The next day, Matt stood by Ned's side in the Small Council chamber. The council members came in one by one. Varys was last, "The little birds sing a grievous song today," he said as he seated himself. "The realm weeps. Shall we begin?"

"When Lord Renly arrives," Ned said.

"I fear Lord Renly has left the city."

"Left the _city?_"

"He took his leave through a postern gate an hour before dawn, accompanied by Ser Loras Tyrell and some fifty retainers," Varys told them. "When last seen, they were galloping south in some haste, no doubt bound for Storm's End or Highgarden."

"Let us begin, then," Ned drew out Robert's last letter. "The king called me to his side last night and commanded me to record his final words. Lord Renly and Grand Maester Pycelle stood witness as Robert sealed the letter, to be opened by the council after his death. Ser Barristan, if you would be so kind?"

The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard examined the paper. "King Robert's seal, and unbroken." He opened the letter and read. "Lord Eddard Stark is herein named Protector of the Realm, to rule as regent until the heir comes of age."

"I would ask this council to confirm me as Lord Protector, as Robert wished," Ned said.

The door opened. Fat Tom stepped into the solar. "Pardon, my lords, the king's steward insists . . . "

The royal steward entered and bowed. "Esteemed lords, the king demands the immediate presence of his small council in the throne room."

"The king is dead," said Lord Stark, "but we shall go with you nonetheless. Tom, assemble an escort, if you would."

As they crossed the courtyard, Matt saw the City Watch on the ramparts of the Red Keep. _Littlefinger came through. _He thought.

Janos Slynt met them at the door to the throne room, armored in ornate black-and-gold plate, with a high-crested helm under one arm. The Commander bowed stiffly. His men pushed open the great oaken doors, twenty feet tall and banded with bronze.

The royal steward led them in. "All hail His Grace, Joffrey of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm," he sang out.

Joffrey sat at the end of the room on the Iron Throne. Five knights of the Kingsguard—all but Ser Jaime and Ser Barristan—were arrayed in a crescent around the base of the throne. They were in full armor, enameled steel from helm to heel, long pale cloaks over their shoulders, shining white shields strapped to their left arms. Cersei Lannister and her two younger children stood behind Ser Boros and Ser Meryn. The queen wore a gown of sea-green silk, trimmed with Myrish lace as pale as foam. On her finger was a golden ring with an emerald the size of a pigeon's egg, on her head a matching tiara.

Above them, Prince Joffrey sat amidst the barbs and spikes in a cloth-of-gold doublet and a red satin cape. Sandor Clegane was stationed at the foot of the throne's steep narrow stair. He wore mail and soot-grey plate and his snarling dog's-head helm.

Behind the throne, twenty Lannister guardsmen waited with longswords hanging from their belts. Crimson cloaks draped their shoulders and steel lions crested their helms. But Littlefinger had kept his promise; all along the walls, in front of Robert's tapestries with their scenes of hunt and battle, the gold-cloaked ranks of the City Watch stood stiffly to attention, each man's hand clasped around the haft of an eight-foot-long spear tipped in black iron. They outnumbered the Lannisters five to one.

Joffrey stood. His red satin cape was patterned in gold thread; fifty roaring lions to one side, fifty prancing stags to the other. "I command the council to make all the necessary arrangements for my coronation," the boy proclaimed. "I wish to be crowned within the fortnight. Today I shall accept oaths of fealty from my loyal councillors."

Ned produced Robert's letter. "Lord Varys, be so kind as to show this to my lady of Lannister."

The eunuch carried the letter to Cersei. The queen glanced at the words. "Protector of the Realm," she read. "Is this meant to be your shield, my lord? A piece of paper?" She ripped the letter in half, ripped the halves in quarters, and let the pieces flutter to the floor.

"Those were the king's words," Ser Barristan said, shocked.

"We have a new king now," Cersei Lannister replied. "Lord Eddard, when last we spoke, you gave me some counsel. Allow me to return the courtesy. Bend the knee, my lord. Bend the knee and swear fealty to my son, and we shall allow you to step down as Hand and live out your days in the grey waste you call home."

"Would that I could," Ned said grimly. "Your son has no claim to the throne he sits. Lord Stannis is Robert's true heir."

"Liar!" Joffrey screamed, his face reddening.

"Mother, what does he mean?" Princess Myrcella asked the queen plaintively. "Isn't Joff

the king now?"

"You condemn yourself with your own mouth, Lord Stark," said Cersei Lannister. "Ser Barristan, seize this traitor."

The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard hesitated. In the blink of an eye he was surrounded by Stark guardsmen, bare steel in their mailed fists.

"And now the treason moves from words to deeds," Cersei said. "Do you think Ser Barristan stands alone, my lord?" With an ominous rasp of metal on metal, the Hound drew his longsword. The knights of the Kingsguard and twenty Lannister guardsmen in crimson cloaks moved to support him.

Matt drew his sword.

"_Kill him!_" the boy king screamed down from the Iron Throne. "_Kill all of them, I command it!_"

"You leave me no choice," Ned told Cersei Lannister. He called out to Janos Slynt. "Commander, take the queen and her children into custody. Do them no harm, but escort them back to the royal apartments and keep them there, under guard."

"Men of the Watch!" Janos Slynt shouted, donning his helm. A hundred gold cloaks leveled their spears and closed.

"I want no bloodshed," Ned told the queen. "Tell your men to lay down their swords, and no one need—"

With a single sharp thrust, the nearest gold cloak drove his spear into Tomard's back. Fat Tom's blade dropped from nerveless fingers as the wet red point burst out through his ribs, piercing leather and mail. He was dead before his sword hit the floor.

Ned's shout came far too late. Janos Slynt himself slashed open Varly's throat. Cayn whirled, steel flashing, drove back the nearest spearman with a flurry of blows; for an instant it looked as though he might cut his way free. Then the Hound was on him. Sandor Clegane's first cut took off Cayn's sword hand at the wrist; his second drove him to his knees and opened him from shoulder to breastbone.

"_Matt, run!_" Ned shouted.

"I won't leave you!" Matt said as he cut down a gold cloak.

"Get the girls and get out of the city!" Ned yelled. "_Now!_"

Matt barely managed to fight his way out the door. When he looked back, Littlefinger was holding a knife to Lord Stark's throat.

_Author's Note: Well, that was a long one. I would have done a few chapters on this section of the story, but I couldn't find a good place to separate them. I was going to do a new chapter every time more than a few hours passed, but some parts that I wanted to get in were too short. I think I could get four more chapters out before I get to the end of book/season one. That would make Book One of my story an even ten chapters long. As always, please leave a review with suggestions and feedback. DireDestroyer, signing off._


	7. Author's Note

_So, I got a PM that said "If you're just going to rehash canon, then why bother writing". Look, if you think that all fanfics have to be AUs, then you are so wrong. Anyways, a self insert may seem like rehashing canon at first, but it's the beginning of the story, a very long story. With a character that interacts with the main heroes so much, there will definitely be some major plot changes. If you compare my story with the corresponding parts of _A Game of Thrones_, you can see that a lot of events were changed. One thing I will not do though, is kill off any of the characters who are not dead in the books and or show. I won't torture you guys with that. One of the major things I will change is the end of the show. I personally thought it was ok, but a lot of people were very disappointed by it. I won't say exactly how I'll change it (mostly because I'm not even sure how yet), but Bran will not be king at the end of this story. It won't be Matt, either. I'm not that selfish. I don't know how long the next chapter will be, but it will most likely be out by Tuesday at the latest. I hope you have enjoyed the story so far and will continue to enjoy it as it goes on. Thank you all for reading._


	8. Escape

When Matt got to the Small Hall, he found Syrio Forel dying. "Where did she go?" He asked the Braavosi.

"There," He said, pointing to a door at the far end of the room. "Two Kingsguard went after her."

"I will save her. You will not die in vain."

"Valar Morghulis," The swordsman said.

Matt did not know what that meant, but there was no time to ask. He was just about to round a corner, when someone grabbed him from behind.

"Don't scream," Lord Varys said. "I will keep you safe."

Cloaked and hooded, Matt followed Varys through the streets of King's Landing. Eventually, they came to a large house with ornate designs on the doorframe. "This is a bit luxurious," Matt said. "Won't they find us here?"

"Believe me, this will be the last place they will look. They will think you're hiding in Flea Bottom."

They walked inside and Arya was sitting on the floor, crying. She looked up when the door opened. When she saw Matt, she ran to him. "You're ok!" She said, hugging him. "Varys said that you were defending Father. I thought they had captured you, or worse."

"Your father told me to get you and Sansa, and get out of the city," he turned to Varys. "Where is Sansa?"

"By the time I arrived at her chambers, she was already being led away by the Kingsguard. I found you while I was returning."

"Thank you for trying, Lord Varys," There was a long pause. "I won't leave without her. We can't let her marry that monster."

"I will see what I can do."

They spent the next few days fearing for their lives. Varys found Blaze chained up in the kennels, heavily guarded. It was too risky to attempt to free him. On the third day, they received word that Robb was marching south with all his bannermen to rescue his father.

"Go to him," Arya urged. "He needs you, Matt. You can tell him exactly what happened."

"My place is here with you. I need to protect you."

"Your place is with Robb. He needs to know what happened."

"Come with me, then. You know how to fight. Robb would be very happy to see you."

"We both know that Robb will send me to Winterfell as soon as we arrive," She said. "I need to stay here with Father."

"Fine," Matt decided. "I can't force you."

"You will need a horse, then?" Varys asked.

"Yes, I will also need to get Blaze out of the kennels. I won't leave him here to be slaughtered."

"I believe I can help with that," a man, cloaked all in black, stepped out of the shadows. "I am Yoren, of the Night's Watch. I think I can get your wolf out."

—

The next day, Matt, disguised as a new recruit, followed Yoren to the kennels. "Halt," the guard said. "What is your business here?"

"I am Yoren of the Night's Watch," the crow said, confidently. "This is one of my recruits. We wish to see this 'beast' we've heard so much about."

"Very well," he opened the door.

As soon as they entered, Blaze caught Matt's familiar scent and started barking.

"What are you doing to it?" the guard yelled.

"Nothing," Yoren replied. "He smells home. I would like to take him with me when I return to the Wall."

"I will need the king's permission."

"The king has let me pick from the worst in this city. I believe this beast applies."

"Very well, then. Take him, but don't blame me when he runs off."

"Thank you, ser."

On the way back, Matt pulled Yoren aside, "If something happens, I want you to take Arya and return her to Winterfell. If Ned is executed, the city will no longer be safe. Promise me you will get her to safety."

"I swear to you, by the old gods and the new, that I will get her to safety."

"Thank you."

They met Arya and Varys in the stables. Varys had a horse prepared for him. "Be sure to tell Robb that I helped you escape," the Master of Whispers said. "If he sacks the capital, I would rather not be killed."

Matt nodded, "I will, Lord Varys. Thank you for all that you have done. Keep Arya safe."

"Please tell Robb to hurry," Arya said, as Matt mounted his horse.

"I'm sure he is already moving as fast as he possibly can with a host that large."

"Just promise me you'll come back alive."

"I swear to you, by all the gods, I will come back to you," He leaned over and kissed her. "I love you."

"I love you, too," She looked at Blaze, "Keep him safe," the wolf walked over and licked her face. "I'll miss you both. Goodbye."

"Goodbye," Matt kicked his horse.

As he neared the gates, a guard saw him, "It's the bastard!" He shouted. "Don't let him leave!"

Matt kicked his horse to go faster and drew his sword. He slashed through one guard while Blaze lunged at another. He was about to try and smash through the gate, when it opened for him. He looked back at the gatehouse, and a guard nodded. _Varys must have paid him to let me through. _He thought. Arrows whizzed passed him as he rode off into the night.

_Author's Note: I think I could probably get one more chapter out of _A Game of Thrones. _I was hoping to get ten chapters in, but I reread the book and there isn't a lot of information on Robb towards the end. I got a request for longer chapters. I will probably do longer chapters in book two, which will follow _A Clash of Kings. _As always, thank you for reading. This is DireDestroyer, signing off._


	9. The King in the North

_Author's Note: Well, here it is, the final chapter of book one. I just want to thank you for all the support on the first part of this story. I hope you will all continue to support the story in the next part. Parts of this chapter are word for word from the book. Specifically most of the exchange with the Freys. Now, without further ado, I give you Chapter Eight: The King in the North. Enjoy._

Matt rode for a day and a night without stopping. When he finally did stop, it was only for a few hours. When he started off again, he rode for two hours before coming upon the Lannister host. He quickly dismounted and tied his horse far away from the camp. He left Blaze to guard it and crept up behind a tree.

He surveyed the camp, getting an idea of the numbers, and started to walk back. He was halfway there when he heard the singing. He knew the song (The Rains of Castamere), but, more importantly, he knew the voice. It was Tyrion Lannister, the Imp. Suddenly, the singing stopped.

"Well, who do we have here?" The Imp said. "The bastard of Karstark. You're supposed to be in King's Landing."

"And you're supposed to be dead."

"Luck is with us both, it seems."

"I think yours has run out," Matt said, drawing his sword.

"Wait!" Tyrion shouted. "I won't tell them you're here."

"That's not why I'm going to kill you," Matt said, his anger flaring. "You tried to kill Bran!"

"How many times do I have to tell you people? I never tried to kill the boy, indirectly or otherwise."

"It was your knife! You won it from Littlefinger!"

"There it is," the dwarf said. "Tell me, bastard, do you really trust _Littlefinger_? From what I heard, he betrayed Ned Stark and got him captured. And besides, who would be stupid enough to hire an assassin, then give the assassin their own knife? It completely defeats the point of hiring an assassin."

Matt remembered the knife Lord Petyr held to Ned's throat. "You're saying Littlefinger tried to have Bran killed?"

"I don't know," he said. "But, what I _do_ know is that it wasn't me."

Matt put away his sword. "You will let me leave?"

"Yes, I probably hate my sister just as much as you do."

As they walked back to Matt's horse, Tyrion was explaining his father's plans, "He wouldn't tell me much, but I know he is going to try to strike at your army before you can cross the Twins. He is sending me to King's Landing to be Hand of the King in his stead."

"Can I trust you?" Matt asked.

"I just told you my father's plans. Of course you can trust me."

"Varys is hiding Arya. Sansa is still in the Red Keep. Promise me you will keep them safe. Yoren, a recruiter from the Night's Watch, will take Arya if Ned gets killed. Help him in any way you can. As for Sansa, she is still betrothed to Joffrey. They won't let her out of their sight. Just keep her safe. Swear it."

"I swear that I will do whatever I can to keep the girls safe."

"I can't believe that I'm saying this, but thank you, Tyrion."

"You're welcome. Could you please try to tell Lady Catelyn that I am innocent?"

"I will try, but she trusts Littlefinger too much."

"I know," the Imp quickly looked around. "You need to go. They will be wondering where I am."

"Goodbye, Imp," Matt climbed on his horse.

"Oh, one more thing," Tyrion said turning back. "Seeing as I am acting Hand of the King and said king is not yet of age, I have the authority to legitimize you. Kneel." Matt dismounted and knelt before the Imp (which only put him at eye level). "I, Tyrion of the house Lannister, Hand to Joffrey, the first of his name, rightful King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, hereby legitimize Matthew Snow, bastard son of Lord Rickard Karstark. Arise, Matthew Karstark."

"Thank you, my lord."

"You're welcome. I know the Crown might not recognize this, seeing as you are technically a traitor, but, if my father plans to marry Arya Stark to Tommen Baratheon, I will do everything I can to stop it. One marriage 'alliance' between the Starks and the so-called 'Baratheons' is bad enough, but with two, my sister could guarantee the North's allegiance no matter what happens. If Robb, Bran, and Rickon die, Sansa becomes queen and Tommen becomes Warden of the North. That cannot be allowed to happen."

"Of course," Matt mounted his horse once again. "Goodbye, Lord Tyrion."

"Goodbye, Matthew," the Imp started walking back to the Lannister camp. "And don't die," he shouted back. "I'd hate to legitimize you for nothing!"

Matt chuckled as he rode away, hoping he could reach the Twins before Robb crossed.

—

It was night when Matt reached Robb Stark's army. He would have shot at the perimeter if not for Blaze, who was immediately recognized as a direwolf. He rode through the camp, Blaze at his side, until he found the command tent. He dismounted and walked inside. His presence was immediately given away by Grey Wind, who started barking when he smelled his brother's scent.

Robb turned around, "Matt!?" He said incredulously. "How did you get here?"

"Varys and Yoren, a recruiter from the Night's Watch, helped me escape."

"And the girls?"

"They got to Sansa before Varys could. Arya was with me for a time, but she refused to leave the capital. She feared that you would send her to Winterfell if she came with me."

"Is she safe, at least?"

"Yes, I made Yoren swear that he would take her home if something goes wrong."

Suddenly, Lord Karstark barged into the tent. "I heard my bastard was here," He looked around. "Where is he?"

"Here, Father," Matt stepped forward. "Only, I am not a bastard anymore. I was legitimized by Tyrion Lannister, acting Hand of the King."

"The Imp would never do that," Catelyn Stark stepped out of the shadows. "He tried to have Bran killed. Why would he legitimize one of his foster brothers?"

"He did not hire that assassin, My lady."

"Tyrion Lannister's own knife was used!"

"A knife he supposedly won from Littlefinger in a bet. Now, I don't trust Littlefinger. Not after he betrayed Ned."

"He what!?"

"Robert named Ned regent. Lord Stark knew that Cersei would try to dispute that claim, so he asked Littlefinger to pay off the City Watch. The gold cloaks turned on us. Ned told me to run. The last thing I saw was Littlefinger holding a knife to his throat."

"That little weasel!" Lady Stark was fuming. "I should have never trusted him!"

"Tyrion also said that no one would be stupid enough to give their own knife to an assassin. Said it defeats the point of hiring an assassin."

"Thank you for this information, Matt. It seems that there is no one in King's Landing whom we can trust."

"We can trust Varys, my lady. He saved Arya and me."

"That may be true, but we don't know if he had an ulterior motive."

"We can speculate another time," Robb cut in. "We should get to bed. There is a larger tent set up for you, Matt. We received a raven from Jon. He was going to try to join us, but it seems that his brothers convinced him otherwise."

"You would not have executed him, my lord?"

"He would have received a full pardon. He is my brother. Father was just captured. He has every reason to desert."

"I see," Matt turned to go. "One more thing," he said, turning back. "Tywin Lannister is turning north. He plans to smash our host before we can cross The Twins."

"We will need to ride twice as hard in the morning, then. Thank you, Matt."

"You should thank the Imp. He was the one who gave me this information."

"He has my thanks. Now get some rest. We have a hard ride ahead of us."

Matt let Blaze out to hunt before going to bed. It was the first real bed he had slept in since he left King's Landing. It felt strange not having Arya next to him. Nevertheless, he got to sleep alright. He dreamt that he was Blaze, running through the woods. He pounced on a deer and the taste of blood filled his mouth.

—

They reached The Twins at noon the next day. The gates were closed and there were archers on the walls. Matt didn't like the look of that.

As the northern lords studied the castle, a sally port opened, a plank bridge slid across the moat, and a dozen knights rode forth to confront them, led by four of Lord Walder's many sons. Their banner bore twin towers, dark blue on a field of pale silver-grey. Ser Stevron Frey, Lord Walder's heir, spoke for them. The Freys all looked like weasels; Ser Stevron, past sixty with grandchildren of his own, looked like an especially old and tired weasel, yet he was polite enough. "My lord father has sent me to greet you, and inquire as to who leads this mighty host."

"I do." Robb spurred his horse forward. He was in his armor, with the direwolf shield of Winterfell strapped to his saddle and Grey Wind padding by his side.

The old knight looked at her son with a faint flicker of amusement in his watery grey eyes, though his gelding whickered uneasily and sidled away from the direwolf. "My lord father would be most honored if you would share meat and mead with him in the castle and explain your purpose here."

His words crashed among the lord's bannermen like a great stone from a catapult. Not one of them approved. They cursed, argued, shouted down each other.

"You must not do this, my lord," Galbart Glover pleaded with Robb. "Lord Walder is not to be trusted."

Roose Bolton nodded. "Go in there alone and you're his. He can sell you to the Lannisters, throw you in a dungeon, or slit your throat, as he likes."

"If he wants to talk to us, let him open his gates, and we will all share his meat and mead," declared Ser Wendel Manderly.

"Or let him come out and treat with Robb here, in plain sight of his men and ours," suggested his brother, Ser Wylis.

"_I will go,_" Lady Catelyn said loudly.

"You, my lady?" The Greatjon furrowed his brow.

"Mother, are you certain?" Clearly, Robb was not.

"Never more," Catelyn said. "Lord Walder is my father's bannerman. I have known him since I was a girl. He would never offer me any harm."

"I am certain my lord father would be pleased to speak to the Lady Catelyn," Ser Stevron said. "To vouchsafe for our good intentions, my brother Ser Perwyn will remain here until she is safely returned to you."

"He shall be our honored guest," said Robb. Ser Perwyn, the youngest of the four Freys in the party, dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to a brother. "I require my lady mother's return by evenfall, Ser Stevron," Robb went on. "It is not my intent to linger here long."

Ser Stevron Frey gave a polite nod. "As you say, my lord."

"If he requests a betrothal for Arya," Matt said as Lady Catelyn passed. "Tell him he'll have to kill me first." Cat only nodded as she rode through the gates.

A swollen red sun hung low against the western hills when the gates of the castle opened. The drawbridge creaked down, the portcullis winched up, and Lady Catelyn Stark rode forth to rejoin her son and his lord's bannermen. Behind her came Ser Jared Frey, Ser Hosteen Frey, Ser Danwell Frey, and Lord Walder's bastard son Ronel Rivers, leading a long column of pikemen, rank on rank of shuffling men in blue steel ringmail and silvery grey cloaks.

Robb and Matt galloped out to meet her, with Grey Wind and Blaze racing beside them. "It's done," she told him. "Lord Walder will grant you your crossing. His swords are yours as well, less four hundred he means to keep back to hold the Twins. I suggest that you leave four hundred of your own, a mixed force of archers and swordsmen. He can scarcely object to an offer to augment his garrison . . . but make certain you give the command to a man you can trust. Lord Walder may need help keeping faith."

"As you say, Mother," Robb answered, gazing at the ranks of pikemen.

"Perhaps . . . Ser Helman Tallhart, do you think?"

"A fine choice."

"What . . . what did he want of us?"

"If you can spare a few of your swords, I need some men to escort two of Lord Frey's grandsons north to Winterfell," she told him. "I have agreed to take them as wards. They are young boys, aged eight years and seven. It would seem they are both named Walder. Your brother Bran will welcome the companionship of lads near his own age, I should think."

"Is that all? Two fosterlings? That's a small enough price to—"

"Lord Frey's son Olyvar will be coming with us," she went on. "He is to serve as your personal squire. His father would like to see him knighted, in good time."

"A squire." He shrugged. "Fine, that's fine, if he's—"

"Also, if your sister Arya is returned to us safely, it is agreed that she will marry Lord Walder's youngest son, Elmar, when the two of them come of age."

Matt's heart stopped. "She is already betrothed!" He objected.

Robb put a hand on Matt's shoulder, "I will talk to him. Perhaps we can negotiate a better deal."

"Thank you, Robb," Matt relaxed a little.

"And you are to wed one of his daughters, once the fighting is done," Cat finished. "His lordship has graciously consented to allow you to choose whichever girl you prefer. He has a number he thinks might be suitable."

To his credit, Robb did not flinch. "I see."

"Do you consent?"

"Can I refuse?"

"Not if you wish to cross."

"I consent," Robb said solemnly.

They crossed at evenfall as a horned moon floated upon the river. The double-column wound its way through the gate of the eastern twin like a great steel snake, slithering across the courtyard, into the keep, and over the bridge, to issue forth once more from the second castle on the west bank.

Robb went in with a small guard to negotiate with Lord Walder. He came out fifteen minutes later with a smile on his face, "I managed to convince him to marry one of his sons to Sansa instead of Arya."

"Thank you, my lord."

"There's something else," Robb said. He looked to his bannermen, "Ser Brynden?"

The Blackfish stepped forward and nodded. He looked at Matt, "Kneel,"

Matt knelt. He couldn't believe that it was finally happening.

"In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to protect the innocent. Arise, Matthew Karstark, a knight of the Seven Kingdoms."

"Thank you, Ser."

—

Two weeks later, they waited in the Whispering Wood for Jamie Lannister's host. The night was warm. _Where are they?_ Matt wondered. Could Brynden Tully have been wrong? So much rested on the truth of what he had told them. Robb had given the Blackfish three hundred picked men and sent them ahead to screen his march. "Jaime does not know," Ser Brynden said when he rode back. "I'll stake my life on that. No bird has reached him, my archers have seen to that. We've seen a few of his outriders, but those that saw us did not live to tell of it. He ought to have sent out more. He does not know."

"How large is his host?" Robb asked.

"Twelve thousand foot, scattered around the castle in three separate camps, with the rivers between," the Blackfish said. "There is no other way to besiege Riverrun, yet still, that will be their undoing. Two or three thousand horse."

"The Kingslayer has us three to one," said Galbart Glover.

"True enough," Ser Brynden said, "yet there is one thing Ser Jaime lacks."

"Yes?" Robb asked.

"Patience."

Their host was greater than it had been when they left the Twins. Lord Jason Mallister had brought his power out from Seagard to join them as they swept around the headwaters of the Blue Fork and galloped south, and others had crept forth as well, hedge knights and small lords and masterless men-at-arms who had fled north when Edmure Tully's army was shattered beneath the walls of Riverrun. They had driven their horses as hard as they dared to reach this place before Jaime Lannister had word of their coming, and now the hour was at hand.

Matt and Robb mounted their horses and rode to the front of the column. Soon they heard birds whistling, the signal the outriders were to give when they saw the Lannister host. Matt peered down the hill. He could just barely make out the red and gold Lannister banners through the trees. A horn sounded. Jamie knew they were there. Robb gave a shout and started down the hill. Matt spurred his horse after him, Blaze by his side. "Winterfell!" He heard Robb shout. The men behind them echoed.

They met the Lannisters with a flurry of swords and arrows. Matt cut down about five men before his horse went down. He kept fighting on foot, with Blaze killing anyone who tried to get behind him. Soon, the enemy was all but defeated. Jamie rallied the last of his men for a desperate charge at Robb. "To me! To me!" Robb shouted, and Matt rushed to his side. In the chaos that followed, Matt saw two of his brothers, as well as Daryn Hornwood, go down. When Robb finally cut down the Kingslayer, he was covered in blood. Matt grabbed Jamie Lannister by the arm and held him.

Jamie looked up at him, "You're the Karstark bastard," he said. "How do you feel about me killing your brothers? I would kill your Stark lover, too, if she wasn't betrothed to Tommen."

Matt's anger flared, "Arya will never marry your bastard son!" He turned to Robb. "Let me kill him, Robb, he deserves it!"

"We should take him to my mother," Robb said. "She should decide what to do with him."

Robb went up ahead. Matt followed after with Theon and the Greatjon dragging Ser Jamie between them. They threw him down in front of Lady Catelyn's horse.

Lannister raised his head. "Lady Stark," he said from his knees. Blood ran down one cheek from a gash across his scalp, but the pale light of dawn had put the glint of gold back in his hair. "I would offer you my sword, but I seem to have mislaid it."

"It is not your sword I want, ser," she told him. "Give me my father and my brother Edmure. Give me my daughters. Give me my lord husband."

"I have mislaid them as well, I fear."

"A pity," Catelyn said coldly.

"Kill him, Robb," Theon Greyjoy urged. "Take his head off."

"No," Robb answered, peeling off his bloody glove. "He's more use alive than dead. And my lord father never condoned the murder of prisoners after a battle."

"A wise man," Jaime Lannister said, "and honorable."

"Take him away and put him in irons," Catelyn said.

"Do as my lady mother says," Robb commanded, "and make certain there's a strong guard around him. Lord Karstark will want his head on a pike."

"That he will," the Greatjon agreed, gesturing. Lannister was led away to be bandaged and chained.

"Why should Lord Karstark want him dead?" Catelyn asked.

They explained it as well as they could. When they were finished, She looked at Matt. "You do not want him dead as well?" She asked. "He killed your brothers."

"I want him dead, my lady, but not for that reason. He threatened Arya," Matt paused for a moment. "But, I respect Robb's wishes."

"I see," she turned back to Robb. "Your men did what they were sworn to do, Robb. They died protecting their liege lord. Grieve for them. Honor them for their valor. But not now. You have no time for grief. You may have lopped the head off the snake, but three-quarters of the body is still coiled around my father's castle. We have won a battle, not a war."

"But _such_ a battle!" said Theon Greyjoy eagerly. "My lady, the realm has not seen such a victory since the Field of Fire. I vow, the Lannisters lost ten men for every one of ours that fell. We've taken close to a hundred knights captive, and a dozen lords bannermen. Lord Westerling, Lord Banefort, Ser Garth Greenfield, Lord Estren, Ser Tytos Brax, Mallor the Dornishman . . . and three Lannisters besides Jaime, Lord Tywin's own nephews, two of his sister's sons and one of his dead brother's . . . "

"And Lord Tywin?" Catelyn interrupted. "Have you perchance taken Lord Tywin, Theon?"

"No," Greyjoy answered, brought up short.

"Until you do, this war is far from done."

Robb raised his head and pushed his hair back out of his eyes. "My mother is right. We still have Riverrun."

—

The only way into Riverrun from the North was by way of the Tumblestone. Robb sat in the bow with Grey Wind, his hand resting on his direwolf's head as the rowers pulled at their oars. Theon Greyjoy and Matt were with him. Brynden Tully would come behind in the second boat, with the Greatjon and Lord Karstark.

They passed beneath the arch and under the walls, moving from sunlight to shadow and back into sunlight. Boats large and small were tied up all around them, secured to iron rings set in the stone. Ser Edmure Tully waited on the water stair. He was a stocky young man with a shaggy head of auburn hair and a fiery beard. His breastplate was scratched and dented from battle, his blue-and-red cloak stained by blood and smoke. At his side stood the Lord Tytos Blackwood, a hard pike of a man with close-cropped salt-and-pepper whiskers and a hook nose. His bright yellow armor was inlaid with jet in elaborate vine-and-leaf patterns, and a cloak sewn from raven feathers draped his thin shoulders. It had been Lord Tytos who led the sortie that plucked Ser Edmure from the Lannister camp.

"Bring them in," Ser Edmure commanded. Three men scrambled down the stairs knee-deep in the water and pulled the boat close with long hooks. When Grey Wind bounded out, one of them dropped his pole and lurched back, stumbling and sitting down abruptly in the river. The others laughed, and the man got a sheepish look on his face. Theon Greyjoy vaulted over the side of the boat and lifted Catelyn by the waist, setting her on a dry step above him as water lapped around his boots.

Edmure came down the steps to embrace her. "Sweet sister," he murmured hoarsely. He had deep blue eyes and a mouth made for smiles, but he was not smiling now. He looked worn and tired, battered by battle and haggard from strain. His neck was bandaged where he had taken a wound. Catelyn hugged him fiercely.

"Your grief is mine, Cat," he said when they broke apart. "When we heard about Lord Eddard . . . the Lannisters will pay, I swear it, you will have your vengeance."

"Will that bring Ned back to me?" she said sharply. She quickly changed her tone, "All that will keep. I must see Father."

"He awaits you in his solar," Edmure said.

"Lord Hoster is bedridden, my lady," the steward explained. "He instructed me to bring you to him at once."

"I'll take her." Edmure escorted her up the water stair and across the lower bailey.

When they had left, Robb decided to go to the godswood. His bannermen went with him. That left just Matt and Theon. "So, Matt, how are you?" Greyjoy asked.

"Tired," Matt replied.

"Aren't we all?"

They talked for a while about their time at Winterfell. Eventually, Theon became distracted by the garrison, asking how the battle went. Matt pitched in when he could, mostly correcting Theon's exaggerations. They were interrupted by Maester Vyman. "Ser Matthew, Greyjoy, a raven arrived from King's Landing."

Matt's heart stopped. _Ned. _"Did you read it?"

"No, I thought it would be best to save it for Lord Robb."

"Very well," Matt said, as Lady Catelyn entered the hall. "My lady."

"Have you seen my son?" She asked.

"He went to the godswood, my lady."

"Thank you," she walked away.

—

"'If you swear fealty to King Joffrey, Sansa will be returned to you along with Eddard Stark's remains.' Signed, King Joffrey, the first of his name, blah blah blah…" Matt passed the paper to Robb.

"There's no mention of Arya," he noted.

"That must mean that Yoren came through."

"There's more news," Ser Edmure said. "Renly Baratheon has crowned himself king. He has the support of the Reach and the Stormlands."

That set the lords off. They started arguing about what to do next. Many wanted to march on Harrenhal, where Tywin Lannister was making camp. Many others wanted to declare for Renly and join their strength to his.

"Renly is not the king," Robb said finally.

"You cannot mean to hold to Joffrey, my lord," Galbart Glover said. "He put your father to death."

"That makes him evil," Robb replied. "I do not know that it makes Renly king. Joffrey is still Robert's eldest trueborn son, so the throne is rightfully his by all the laws of the realm. Were he to die, and I mean to see that he does, he has a younger brother. Tommen is next in line after Joffrey."

"Tommen is no less a Lannister," Ser Marq Piper snapped.

"As you say," said Robb, troubled. "Yet if neither one is king, still, how could it be Lord Renly? He's Robert's _younger_ brother. Bran can't be Lord of Winterfell before me, and Renly can't be king before Lord Stannis."

Lady Mormont agreed. "Lord Stannis has the better claim."

"Renly is _crowned_," said Marq Piper. "Highgarden and Storm's End support his claim, and the Dornishmen will not be laggardly. If Winterfell and Riverrun add their strength to his, he will have five of the seven great houses behind him. _Six_, if the Arryns bestir themselves! Six against the Rock! My lords, within the year, we will have all their heads on pikes, the queen and the boy king, Lord Tywin, the Imp, the Kingslayer, Ser Kevan, _all_ of them! That is what we shall win if we join with King Renly. What does Lord Stannis have against that, that we should cast it all aside?"

"The right," said Robb stubbornly.

"So you mean us to declare for Stannis?" asked Edmure.

"I don't know," said Robb. "I prayed to know what to do, but the gods did not answer. The Lannisters killed my father for a traitor, and we know that was a lie, but if Joffrey is the lawful king and we fight against him, we _will_ be traitors."

"My lord father would urge caution," aged Ser Stevron said, with the weaselly smile of a Frey. "Wait, let these two kings play their game of thrones. When they are done fighting, we can bend our knees to the victor, or oppose him, as we choose. With Renly arming, likely Lord Tywin would welcome a truce . . . and the safe return of his son. Noble lords, allow me to go to him at Harrenhal and arrange good terms and ransoms . . . "

A roar of outrage drowned out his voice. "_Craven_!" the Greatjon thundered. "Begging for a truce will make us seem weak," declared Lady Mormont. "Ransoms be damned, we must not give up the Kingslayer," shouted Rickard Karstark.

"Why not peace?" Catelyn asked.

The lords looked at her, but it was Robb who spoke first, "My lady, they murdered my lord father, your husband," he said grimly. He unsheathed his longsword and laid it on the table before him, the bright steel on the rough wood. "This is the only peace I have for Lannisters."

The Greatjon bellowed his approval, and other men added their voices, shouting and drawing swords and pounding their fists on the table. Catelyn waited until they had quieted. "My lords," she said then, "Lord Eddard was your liege, but I shared his bed and bore his children. Do you think I love him any less than you?" She took a long breath. "Robb, if that sword could bring him back, I should never let you sheathe it until Ned stood at my side once more . . . but he is gone, and hundred Whispering Woods will not change that. Ned is gone, and Daryn Hornwood, and Lord Karstark's valiant sons, and many other good men besides, and none of them will return to us. Must we have more deaths still?"

"You are a woman, my lady," the Greatjon rumbled in his deep voice. "Women do not understand these things."

"You are the gentle sex," said Lord Karstark, with the lines of grief fresh on his face. "A man has a need for vengeance."

"Give me Cersei Lannister, Lord Karstark, and you would see how gentle a woman can be," Catelyn replied. "Perhaps I do not understand tactics and strategy . . . but I understand futility. We went to war when Lannister armies were ravaging the riverlands, and Ned was a prisoner, falsely accused of treason. We fought to defend ourselves, and to win my lord's freedom.

"Well, the one is done, and the other forever beyond our reach. I will mourn for Ned until the end of my days, but I must think of the living. I want my daughters back, and the queen holds them still. If I must trade our four Lannisters for their two Starks, I will call that a bargain and thank the gods. I want you safe, Robb, ruling at Winterfell from your father's seat. I want you to live your life, to kiss a girl and wed a woman and father a son. I want to write an end to this. I want to go home, my lords, and weep for my husband."

The hall was very quiet when Catelyn finished speaking.

"Peace," said the Blackfish. "Peace is sweet, my lady . . . but on what terms? It is no good hammering your sword into a plowshare if you must forge it again on the morrow."

"What did Torrhen and my Eddard die for, if I am to return to Karhold with nothing but their bones?" asked Rickard Karstark.

"Aye," said Lord Bracken. "Gregor Clegane laid waste to my fields, slaughtered my smallfolk, and left Stone Hedge a smoking ruin. Am I now to bend the knee to the ones who sent him? What have we fought for, if we are to put all back as it was before?"

Lord Blackwood agreed, surprisingly. "And if we do make peace with King Joffrey, are we not then traitors to King Renly? What if the stag should prevail against the lion, where would that leave us?"

"Whatever you may decide for yourselves, I shall never call a Lannister my king," declared Marq Piper.

"Nor I!" yelled the little Darry boy. "I never will!"

Shouting filled the hall once more. Suddenly, the Greatjon lurched to his feet.

"MY LORDS!" he shouted, his voice booming off the rafters. "Here is what I say to these two kings!" He spat. " Renly Baratheon is nothing to me, nor Stannis neither. Why should they rule over me and mine, from some flowery seat in Highgarden or Dorne? What do they know of the Wall or the wolfswood or the barrows of the First Men? Even their gods are wrong. The Others take the Lannisters too, I've had a bellyful of them." He reached back over his shoulder and drew his immense two-handed greatsword. "Why shouldn't we rule ourselves again? It was the dragons we married, and the dragons are all dead!" He pointed at Robb with the blade. "There sits the only king I mean to bow my knee to, m'lords," he thundered. "The King in the North!"

And he knelt, and laid his sword at Robb's feet.

"I'll have peace on those terms," Lord Karstark said. "They can keep their red castle and their iron chair as well." He eased his longsword from its scabbard. "The King in the North!" he said, kneeling beside the Greatjon. Matt joined him.

Maege Mormont stood. "The King of Winter!" she declared, and laid her spiked mace beside the swords. And the river lords were rising too, Blackwood and Bracken and Mallister, houses who had never been ruled from Winterfell, yet Matt watched them rise and draw their blades, bending their knees and shouting the old words that had not been heard in the realm for more than three hundred years, since Aegon the Dragon had come to make the Seven Kingdoms one . . . yet now were heard again, ringing from the timbers of Riverrun:

"The King in the North!"

"The King in the North!"

"_THE KING IN THE NORTH!_"

Matt looked at Robb and smiled.

_Author's Note: That's the end of Book One. I hope you all enjoyed the first part of the story. Book Two will hopefully be out within the next week. As always leave a review with suggestions. This is DireDestroyer, signing off._


End file.
